


Garden Projects

by northern



Series: where you can always find me [9]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Face-Fucking, M/M, Post-Fall (Hannibal)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 04:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7876423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northern/pseuds/northern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will and Hannibal resolve some tension in a physical manner, breaking a pattern.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Garden Projects

**Author's Note:**

> Start reading with part one of the series.
> 
> There is a note at the end about this part concerning violent sex. Slightly spoilery, but go look if you feel worried.
> 
> Thank you Elizaria and Damnslippyplanet for listening to my worrying about character motivation and violence.

The day is overcast and windless. Something sits uneasy and charged between them, their coffee finished in silence on the steps leading from the patio into the garden. At least they sit together, Hannibal muses, even if it is in a silence which is reflected by the damp, overly long grass spreading out before them toward the trees and flower beds, in need of tending. They should hire someone to come each week and do the necessary work, discreetly.

Will seems restless. This might be one of those days when he disappears for a few hours. He hasn't, recently, his preoccupation with Hannibal enough to keep him tethered to the house. Hannibal is Will's pet project, one might say. He should phrase it just like that the next time other people can hear them, to see if Will startles or smiles.

Hannibal retreated last night. He would, however, like to avoid any perceived need for Will to do the same today.

"I thought I might arrange for someone to take care of the garden," he says, in an attempt to break the obvious tension between them.

Will looks up. "We're staying, then?"

It's true that this is the fifth house they've spent any significant amount of time in over the year and a half since their escape from their old lives, but this one has, so far, suited them both. Hannibal has seen no need to move yet again — their trail seems utterly cold from what he has gathered. This town with its surroundings is quite satisfactory; small enough to hide in, yet large enough that they need not lack in resources.

"Unless you feel uncomfortable here?"

Will glances at him again, sidelong and quickly turning his gaze back to the garden with all its faults.

"No," Will says. "I like it. This is good." He shifts in his seat, setting his coffee mug down on the step beside him before standing.

Hannibal tips his head back, twisting in his seat to watch him take a step up and pause there, as if waiting. There's still something invisible suspended between them, the still air breathless in response.

Will reaches out and brushes something from Hannibal's shoulder. It might be lint, or some early seed that's found its way onto his shirt. Hannibal isn't interested in the exact nature of the offending object. He watches Will, enchanted by this unexpected overture.

"You had something…" Will says, his voice hushed, yet strained. His hand falls back to his side reluctantly.

Hannibal keeps immobile, watching and holding his breath as Will's hand returns, slowly, to hover near the side of his head. Hannibal can almost feel his touch, the heat from their bodies reverberating between them. And then Will closes the gap, resting his palm against the side of Hannibal's neck. There is something half unfamiliar in Will's eyes, and Hannibal doesn't dare to break the silence even as the tension builds. It's becoming more and more difficult not to look away, not to look instead at Will's crotch, which is right in front of him.

They stay there, suspended, Will's hand against Hannibal's neck. Hannibal draws in a deep breath, capturing the scent of Will, heightened by the musk of the beginnings of his arousal. His action makes Will's hand tighten, the smallest tug on Hannibal toward him, and Hannibal refuses to resist his encouragement, be it conscious or not.

He moves forward, folding his legs beneath him to kneel on the step, presses his face into Will's groin and rubs his cheek over where Will's cock is caught under the denim. The rough fabric is uncomfortable, but it is as nothing considering the way Will's breath has caught and his hand has fallen away, not stopping him. Hannibal rubs his face over Will's cock, pressing against the hard heat of it, mapping it until he can almost see it in his mind's eye, rid of its concealing barrier. He buries his nose in Will, inhaling the increase of Will's excitement, and feels an answering heavy heat in his own pants, imagining what it would be like to run his lips and face over Will's naked skin. How warm, how firm with blood and arousal. How sweet to taste.

Will only breathes shakily above him. Says nothing, does nothing. Hannibal carefully reaches up to hook his fingers into Will's belt loops at his sides, rejoicing as he is allowed this as well. It helps him drag his face harder against Will's cock, in firm strokes that abrade his cheek until it feels as if he might be removing a layer of skin. No matter — he will flay it all off to bring Will pleasure. He opens his mouth, taking the hard line of Will's cock between his teeth. He bites gently, and Will finally makes a noise, a stuttering moan as he pushes Hannibal away, hard. Hannibal catches himself on his hands and is left on his knees, leaning back on the tiles, the strain on his thigh muscles unimportant as he looks up at Will.

Will's hand is still outstretched, as if he can't help reaching for Hannibal even after pushing him away. A number of expressions flit over his face in rapid succession — frustration, bewilderment, fear, anger, hunger — before coalescing into some version of determination. He unbuttons his jeans and shoves them off without grace, just getting rid of them and his underwear as fast as possible, all the while staring at Hannibal. The intensity of his gaze pulls at Hannibal, and he rises back on his knees again, something burning and anticipatory coiling in his chest, just barely holding itself back. He could lean forward even further, press his lips against Will's cock in adoring supplication, but if he waits, savoring the moment until it breaks...

Will grabs Hannibal and pulls him forward, near unbalancing him as Will sits abruptly on the steps, jerking Hannibal's head down. Hannibal catches himself on his hands before he falls, letting Will continue his motion, pushing him down, because it will get him what he desires. Hannibal has already parted his lips when Will uses one hand to steady his cock and the other to tug Hannibal onto it, shoving it into Hannibal's willing mouth almost too fast. Will's bitten-off groan sounds more like pain than pleasure and it's all Hannibal can do to try and keep his teeth out of the way, but the long-delayed physicality of it has Hannibal almost shaking out of his skin with excitement.

The raw taste of Will is even better than he imagined — salty sweet skin enhanced by musk and a faint hint of pre-ejaculate. Will gives him little chance to savor it properly, but the flavor permeates his mouth thoroughly as Will begins to fuck him. Hannibal knows how to excel in oral sex in a variety of ways, but those techniques are only useful when he himself controls the act. This edge of desperate roughness to Will's movements just demands that he keep his mouth open with his tongue positioned correctly and angle his head as much as Will's grip on him allows, to keep from choking. It is a delicate balancing act that he is happy to perform. He luxuriates in a rushing wave of triumph, as Will pushes and drags against his soft palate again and again, forcing him to struggle not to gag. His lips are sore, there are patches of skin on his face that still sting from rubbing too hard against denim and Will keeps making it very difficult for him to breathe, and all he can feel is bright joy. Will wants him. Will can't stop himself from taking what he wants, and now Hannibal knows how he tastes.

He almost does choke on it when Will comes, a sudden burst of thick flavor in his mouth, and the jerking spasms of Will's orgasm makes some of it spill from Hannibal's mouth onto to tile below. This is unacceptable. Hannibal needs all of Will he can have, and he bends down, Will's suddenly weak grip releasing him, and laps the spilled fluid up. The heavy sweet-salt taste of Will mingles with the mineral dust of the smooth tile on his tongue.

Above him, Will is sucking in huge breaths, mumbling "Fuck… fuck," but it's insignificant. Hannibal has all he wants in this moment. He lies down on his side, curled toward Will's naked feet, and squints up. Will is covering his face with his hands, still breathing hard, and Hannibal smiles, treasuring the way his mouth feels — used and sore. His own arousal is more of a dull ache now, dissipating slowly. Hannibal has no interest in stoking those embers at the moment. This morning has been more than satisfactory just the way it is.

**Author's Note:**

> In this part, the sexual act between Will and Hannibal is a bit violent. The point of view is Hannibal and Hannibal is quite pleased with how things go, but you might worry about Will and his state of mind. I'll try and address this further on, but these people aren't great at humaning.


End file.
